


You Lied To Me

by OstwickanCheeses



Category: Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24470377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OstwickanCheeses/pseuds/OstwickanCheeses
Summary: Dorian understands the Inquisitor means well, but anger is an emotion he's always been comfortable with.(A series of vignettes following the events of Last Resort of Good Men.)
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	You Lied To Me

**Author's Note:**

> My dear friend said "be the change you want to see," so I wrote Pavelyan angst.
> 
> This is a multi-chaptered fic that I hope to complete in due time.  
> This would also be my first work for DAI, so go easy on me.

Dorian:

Dorian stepped out into the crisp Redcliffe air. The acrid stench of freshly caught smoked fish had just about cleared, and the bustle of trade and travel faltered to a quiet evening patter. Dorian briefly wondered how long he’d spent trapped within the walls of the Gull and Lantern, forced to relive memories of a life he'd only wished he’d forgotten. He trembled from the absurdity of what had happened. From the involvement of the Inquisitor to the now crumpled letter that sat in his pocket, but above all, he raged at the deceit, wishing he could all but scrub away the cloying hurt and shame that clenched tight within his chest every time he thought of his family’s lengths to stifle him. 

Under the flickering flames of the tavern’s evening lamps, his hands shook, and his skin burned hot with the same anger and childish despair that dogged every one of his encounters with Magister Halward Pavus, his father.

He swiped the rough pads of his cracked gloves across his cheeks, and tugged on his robes, tipping his chin forward as he strode towards a lone figure sat beneath an ancient oak tree.

The grand inquisitor had left the two of them to talk, and while he appreciated Raphael Trevelyan’s proclivities for seeing the best in people, this trek out into the ass end of some Fereldan tavern had been one big rouse after another, and Dorian? Dorian burned at the betrayal of it all. Where Trevelyan must have seen hope in the reconciliation of a family torn by differences, Dorian had only seen failure and the gaping maw that had always defined his relationship with his father. After all, what would one naïve marcher boy from Ostwick know about the deep, clawing, abasing pain of a dysfunctional Tevinter family?

“Thank you for bringing me here, Inquisitor,” he said roughly as he reached the sun-dappled shade of the oak tree. _For lying to me_ , he didn’t say.

Trevelyan’s odd, pale hair ruffled in the breeze, and he looked up from where he was carving a notch into his staff. Where the nervous tick had once endeared the man to him, it enraged Dorian to see it now.

He opened his mouth to speak, and Dorian interrupted, voice clipped, strained from barely restrained anger. “Well,” he said relishing a small, vicious pang of victory when the Inquisitor shut his mouth with a click. “You’ve gotten what you wanted.” He growled. “Shall we leave?”

Trevelyan stood, nodding dumbly. His eyes were wide with… yes, it was regret that Dorian saw in those depths – at himself, at Dorian’s past, at the failed attempt of what he’d hoped would have been a warm family reunion. It was soft and remorseful, and utterly bereft, and Dorian found it ugly. His eyes burned despite the tight lid he’d thought he’d kept on his emotions, and he found the more he stared at the man, the more he hated the gentle way he stared back.

Dorian turned on his heel, his footsteps swift and steady. He pushed away every emotion he’d felt up to that moment – all except anger. He heard the hurried scuffle of feet behind him and kept his gaze forward, unwilling to confront the implications of what he saw in that face – in those eyes. He’d once thought he could - maybe one day - seek refuge in the enchanting way they lit up in his presence. Now, he found himself unwilling to look upon the Inquisitor for more than a second.

Dorian mounted his horse with the purpose of a hardened man. He brushed the contrition off his robes, and kicked his horse forward, determined to never falter again. It was done. The Inquisitor and Magister Halward Pavus had both gotten what they wanted, and Dorian felt nothing but used - 15 and confused once more, yearning for love and acceptance in a barren world determined to tear him down.

He broke his horse into a run, and rode for Skyhold, refusing to look back at everything he’d left behind in plumes of dust and dirt; at the lost chances - at the men he once trusted. He left them all in the gathering dusk of some backwater port village, and vowed to build his own future with his own hands, on his own terms.

Never again.


End file.
